Lostwithiel and surrounds

Outside of Cornwall, Lostwithiel, where we are presently located, is practically unknown. Once, a long time ago, it was the Cornish capital as a result of the huge amount of tin mined in the surrounding hills. Now it's just another pleasant Cornish village with a church, several pubs, a strong community spirit and a railway station. It's neither on the coast nor on a main road and it nestles gently in the valley of the River Fowey (pronounced Foy, as in boy and toy) just upstream from the bustling holiday town of Fowey. The river bisects the village, contains salmon and trout and was once much deeper before silting due to the aforementioned tin mining. Our accommodation, on the right bank of the river, just downstream of the bridge, has flood doors fitted on the main access points. We're very close to the water, and the sea is only about five miles or so downstream. We're also very close to the supermarket, various antique and book shops and places to eat out or get takeaways. Our car is parked right outside the front door. All very convenient.

Railway station sign, the old type, still in use.

The only bridge in town. First erected about 800 years ago and modified as the river gradually changed its course. Several of the original arches are now part of the foundations of North Street, which arrives at the bridge from the left as you see it above.

The River Fowey, right next to us. If you know where to look you can just see small trout waiting in the current for morsels which might appear. Their "rises" give them away if the morsel is floating. Mallards are numerous.

This one's for Josie. There's a house just near the bridge whose front yard is adorned with an amazing variety of pig "garden gnomes". Not only that but the house walls are decorated in pig sculptures and plaques.

Enough of Lostwithiel for the moment. We're using the town as a base and on Monday set off to view some of the famous nearby attractions including Polperro, which turned out to be the nicest, we think.

One thing about these "sweet Cornish fishing villages" you hear about is that they're all built on small natural harbours which by their very nature are difficult to access from the land. So, going by car or bus? Don't expect to drive into town and find a parking spot. The town centres are necessarily closed off to all vehicles except those with special local privileges. You'll have to pay to park a kilometre or so away and then descend to water level by steep and narrow lanes all the while being assailed on all sides by enterprises offering everything from beach toys to Cornish pasties (the latter deemed an essential part of a Cornish holiday).

Being a keen fisherman myself, I was struck by the amount of trouble non-fishermen will go to to see fishermen operating in their natural working environment and to buy an ice cream there while watching for the quaint practices to occur. You know, fishermen sitting on piles of nets, pipe-smoking fishermen repairing said nets, fishermen preparing to go to sea, and fishermen sitting in the pub drinking a pint. All these villagers have to do to make money is to keep acting like fishermen and the crowds will flock to buy crab sandwiches, ogle the crying sea birds, and fight to be taken out for a boat trip on a battered guano-encrusted boat skippered by a bearded old salt wearing a woollen jumper, filthy pants and sea boots. Some exaggeration there but I think you'll get the message. Anyway, here's Polperro, undoubtedly beautiful, but no beach, and fishing is the only reason it's there.

The harbour, looking shoreward from the outer sea wall.

Overview, including outer sea wall.

One of the many pubs in which you can spy real fishermen drinking a pint.

Shops selling all sorts of stuff.

The harbour from the land side.

Seldom-used so-called pleasure craft, too, with masts.

Narrow allies flanked by highly priced, but minute, holiday cottages.

Here's one.

And another, rustically framed (sorry, couldn't resist!)

Most of the day was used up in finding our way to these places, none more than 20 miles (32km) from Lostwithiel. You've probably heard that there are narrow roads in Cornwall. It's true. Just ask us. The iPad suggested a road for us and we followed it to find ourselves quickly running along a verdant tunnel hoping that no one was coming the other way.

Cornish motorway.

Just to show you our Fiat 500, and a bit of nearby countryside.

On Monday afternoon we basked in the waning but still warm sunlight on our deck with the customary glass or two of red before heading off to the nearby Globe Inn for our evening meal at surf club prices.

Note the ducks in the background, hoping in vain to be fed.

Having vowed to have a car-free day on Tuesday, we arose late, thought a country walk might be in order so wandered over the nearby community cum tourist centre for some tips. The helpful volunteer on duty suggested we try the 5.5km loop to the south, starting and ending in Lostwithiel. This didn't seem too challenging and we handed over 40p for the printed instructions and set off immediately.

View over Lostwithiel from the path at the top of the hill just south.

Part of the walk involved one of those narrow Cornish motorways (little traffic, fortunately)

Inhabitant of a stable, encountered on the way.

We had to cross this field whose crop had been turned into hundreds of hay bales. Mary just had to take a break.

We struck up a conversation with the two farmers involved in the baling activity and chatted amiably for about ten minutes. The younger guy, on the right, 51 years old, had "never even been to London", and certainly never anywhere further afield. The older guy was aged 69, same as Kev. Note the safety pin holding up his pants. Both had lived their entire lives here.

It's now Tuesday afternoon. The weather is as good as we could hope for and forecast to be the same for the next few days. So tomorrow we'll probably do the longish road trek to Penzance and Mousehole, and whatever other sights we can fit in.

Tonight for dinner we're headed for the Earl of Chatham, another pub within walking distance. It's quiz night at the Earl so you never know, we might get a chance to join in.

Thanks for reading

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Kev Long
Author iPad Traveller for iPad and Mac.